Twin Bridges, Montana

 

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by cheri sabraw

Every town or city in which we stopped, especially in Montana, became an opportunity for speculation. Is this a place where we could live part of the year and exit California congestion?

This line of questioning we pursued from Hamilton, Montana–a charming town in the Bitterroot Valley still undisturbed by tourists–to Great Falls–a city on the Missouri River, protected from California investment by its spartan offerings–frigidity in winter and wind velocity in summer.

Lured by the confluence of four famous Montanan rivers–the Beaverhead, the Big Hole,  the Madison, and the Jeffereson–we drove into Twin Bridges, population 350.

At the end of Main Street we found our lodging, the Kings Motel, owned by Don and Marsha and their son, Matt.

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Don’t let the trim outside and gravel road deceive you. Marsha and Don take pride in the cleanliness of their rooms, complete with kitchens, lounge chairs, and homemade furniture.

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While my husband fly-fished the Big Hole with Matt, I walked to the Shack for lunch and then crossed the Beaverhead on one of the Twins (bridges). I was on my way to the vacant fairgrounds, around which I had been told, was a walking path. The dry air, hovering at 85 degrees, along with almost a complete absence of other people, put me into a dreamy mood.

The Shack at lunchtime.

The Shack at lunchtime.

IMG_3511Should I order a Bud Light or a Brownie Sundae?

Later, I headed to the fairgrounds, imagining myself on my daily walk here in the Ruby Valley, free of the snarl of cars, the clang of my neighbors’ heavy equipment on Sunday mornings at 7:00 am, or the roar of the 737’s heading into one of three airports in San Francisco, Oakland, or San Jose.

IMG_3524The fairgrounds were vacant alright. Not a steer, lamb, or hog to be found.

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I’m sure the dear and deceased Paula, God Rest Her Soul, is thrilled that in her honor, bulls have their way with trapped cows. Makes me wonder what Paula’s hobbies were.

This sight caused me pause: will they name a room at Mission San Jose High School after me when I die? That freakish thought was answered before I could get Paula out of my mind. “Absolutely not, shouted the representative from the California Teachers’ Association! ”

The day became hotter; my checked cowboy shirt and jeans began to feel heavy.

The mile loop seemed like part of the arduous  Lewis and Clark expedition, which passed by Twin Bridges at Three Forks. There, to the relief of Meriwether Lewis, Sacajawea saw the Beaverhead Mountains and remembered her homeland.

On my walk by a tributary of the Beaverhead, a fella  enjoyed himself.

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I rounded the bend,  about a half a mile from my motel room; the day was as still and dry as cornstarch.

Not much was happening in Twin Bridges. Should I attend  the Gun Show over there in  one of the fairground buildings?

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Instead, I headed for the Kings Motel. The path freshened with the river. I called out to moisture. Moisture! Surely you will sooth my parched skin and slumping body.

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And then it appeared–the Twin Bridges Oasis–Main Street.

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Back at the King’s Motel, I fell into one of the Barca-Lounger chairs in my comfortable room and picked up the book I had deliberately brought to reread while here in Montana–A River Runs Through it.

In my view, this novella is as good as anything Hemingway ever wrote about nature, conflicted relationships, and sport as religion. As I asked my husband later that night at dinner at the Old Hotel in Twin Bridges, ” What do you think the “it” refers to in A River Runs Through It?

Could the pronoun have referred to Twin Bridges?

My husband, settled, loose, and unpreoccupied after a day on a river, and having enjoyed several glasses of Pinot Noir, missed the joke.

“Why Cheri, the ‘it’ refers to the tangled relationship that Norman had with his brother Paul.”

 

The Big Hole River, Twin Bridges, Montana

The Big Hole River, Twin Bridges, Montana

 

 

 

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About Cheri

Writer, artist, cable television host, grandmother to four!
This entry was posted in Life, My photography, People and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

10 Responses to Twin Bridges, Montana

  1. Cheri,
    A wonderful trip shared with your husband. Great photos, too.

    I love Montana and have ridden there and just reread A River Runs Through It, too!

    Very much enjoyed your spouse’s ability to take “it” for the brothers’ relationship. That’s the beauty of a metaphor – it works more than it doesn’t.

    Your PA friend, MJ

    • Cheri says:

      Thanks Mary Jane,
      I wonder why you and I were reading the same book at about the same time. I ask this because I am reading Daniel Kahneman’s fascinating book, Thinking, Fast and Slow.
      The metaphor of the river, if you have the most recent edition of Maclean’s book, was further explored by Annie Proux, I believe, in the introduction.
      What literary criticism!
      Yes. Take the Jung seminar…

  2. cpartner@comcast.net says:

    fabulous read! I am refreshed. cindy

  3. We have fished those rivers. I hope we left some fish for Ron. As for lunch, why didn’t you order the pizza? You could have had breadsticks included free. Loved the book and the movie. Brad Pitt at his most adorably naughty.

  4. Richard says:

    Watching your progress through America, here and on previous occasions, and sharing your impressions and responses is a delight.

    After an unusually warm September, we have been hit by a sudden cold spell in London, so the heat by the river was especially welcome.

  5. wkkortas says:

    The idea of spending half a year in a small town is an intriguing one; you would get the benefits of decompression without as much of the occasional suffocating intramurality of small towns (I lived in a village the size of Twin Bridges for a while, so I know of what I speak.)

    As an aside and speaking of Hemingway…I just (literally, a couple of days ago) finished re-reading Islands In The Stream; I’m of two minds of the book–the sequences on the water where fish or Nazis are being chased are just top-shelf Hemingway, but the characters are, by and large, a pretty flat lot, and the novel’s main character is the Hemingway ideal man run amuck.

  6. shoreacres says:

    What a wonderful small town. I could be happy there, I know. Well, except for that winter thing. Otherwise, it looks pretty much perfect, especially if there’s broadband. I did small town for a while, and wouldn’t mind it again. Who knows?

    I laughed and laughed at the Woodstock poster on the wall at the Shack.

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